


Becoming as One

by FoxRafer



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-26
Updated: 2009-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-29 12:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxRafer/pseuds/FoxRafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unwanted discovery that cannot be denied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Becoming as One

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the [**sons_of_gondor**](http://sons-of-gondor.livejournal.com/) Trick or Treat Exchange

Boromir pulled himself up to his full height as he approached Imladris. The last several miles had been a torture to his already fatigued body but he would not have the elves see him in a diminished state. It felt cooler in this valley, the high tree-covered slopes refreshing the air along the winding path. The pre-dawn sky was streaked with varying shades of violet and blue, the stars just beginning to dim as they started their daily surrender to the sun's commanding light.

After more than 100 days Boromir no longer found joy or beauty in the celestial play. He had grown unsure of this mission; now believing the dream had been nothing more than fancy, he wondered if this had been a fool's journey. What knowledge would he find in this realm that could help Gondor? In his absence had another wave of Morgul horror fallen upon his beloved country? Yet again Boromir forced himself to push those thoughts to the back of his mind. He was finally at Rivendell and even if they lent him a horse it would be many weeks before he'd see the White City again. Boromir took several deep breaths, squaring his shoulders as he completed the final few yards of his journey. He would greet them with pride and strength, learn what he could from them, then return to his duty.

# # #

Boromir started yet another journey across his room, the pacing doing nothing to settle him. The elves may be wise but he'd determined they knew nothing of haste. He had been in Rivendell for nearly a month and final plans had yet to be made for this mission, this futile quest he had volunteered to accompany until he must take his leave for Gondor. His brother was often on his mind, knowing in his heart he was well but fearing for him nonetheless. Each day that passed increased his concern.

He used this irritation as a blind against things he must ignore, deliberately evading his lingering thoughts about Aragorn. He'd responded with derision upon learning the man in Northern ranger garb was actually Isildur's long lost heir. But secretly he was intrigued by him, wishing to know his stories, his world, his heart. This interest both angered and frustrated him, seeming to have a life of its own inside his mind.

Only yesterday they had run into each other along one of Rivendell's wooded paths. The smell of the open road still clung to Aragorn's clothes, his face slightly flushed from heavy wind, clearly just returned from one of the scouting missions. Even now Boromir did not know whether he'd managed to mask the unexpected desire that had surged through him at the sight. And he could not admit even to himself that it was far more than physical longing that made his fingers ache to reach for the man, to pull him close.

# # #

He sat on the outer edge of the circle of sleeping bodies, the darkness of Moria closing in as if to smother him. Sound was intensified in the blackness and Boromir relaxed into his senses as they reached out into the gloom.

There was movement behind him and Boromir knew before the first footfall that it was Aragorn; he'd long since memorized his scent, the distinct whisper and sigh of his clothing. It aggravated him to realize this but it would be foolish to deny. Quietly he listened to Aragorn's approach, was disturbingly unsurprised when the man sat so close he could feel the heat from his body through all the layers of their raiment.

He matched Aragorn's silence with his own, letting the blue-black of the mines fill what space remained between them. Breaths and minds synchronized unconsciously, ever alert yet oddly soothed as they shared the watch and an unspoken bond that went far beyond fellowship.

# # #

Boromir did not know who benefited more from these trips through the Lothlorien woods. Aragorn shouldered Gandalf's death and his new leadership of their party as a heavy burden. But Boromir was ill at ease in this land, finding little comfort within its borders. Unlike the others he did not feel at peace here. He did not like the Elf Queen in his head, did not like being tested by one so unreadable and yet so powerful.

It mattered not whether they walked in silence, accompanied by the gentle rustle of the underbrush and leaves that sang in the wind, or talked along the banks of streams or in quiet coves. In these trips they gave voice to cares they did not share lightly, laying souls bare. In the end Boromir discovered what Aragorn offered was something far richer than challenge, much deeper than the momentary comfort of a soldier in arms. And the realization struck a place so far buried inside he winced as if its struggle for the light was a physical pain.

Would such a confession give Aragorn an even greater load to carry? Would it even be believed? But as new life taking its first breath, it would not be denied and the words flowed unbidden. Boromir held his ground despite his fears as only a soldier with many scars could. Then Aragorn turned toward him with eyes full of hope and promise, clear and unguarded. Boromir leaned forward, meeting him halfway, wanting to explore every facet of their glorious depths.


End file.
